His head ringing, Aiden managed to move enough to prevent the blade going straight in, though it caught the flat of his new armour and was pushed aside.
Drawing his sword, Aiden engaged his agile opponent, having difficulty focusing with his injured head. If he wanted to end this fight rapidly, he had to take away his enemy’s greatest advantage - his mobility. Reaching down, Aiden grasped some snow with his free hand and threw it in the direction of the shadowy figure’s face.
The attacker flinched and hesitated, giving Aiden the chance he needed to step in and slash at the assassin’s legs, cutting deeply into flesh and splashing blood onto the snowy ground. With his leg injured, his opponent was much easier to hit, and with three quick strikes Aiden was able to bring him down.
Looking around, he saw Sayana had just cleaved her opponent’s skull open with her axe, but Pacian was on the ground already. Ronan was struggling to keep the remaining two assailants away from the unarmoured ladies, his twin short swords whirling about in defensive arcs with practiced precision.
Nellise held her staff, and the slight shimmer to her robe suggested that she had enacted a prayer of protection for herself, but Criosa had been caught off-guard by the attack and hadn’t even drawn her rapier. The fetching blue dress she had bought was inhibiting her movements, and the impractical shoes she now wore were prevented her from running.
Aiden, his vision clearing, rushed in with his blade swinging in a wide arc across the assassin’s back. The attacker turned about to face him, keeping his injured back against his comrade while he drew a short sword from underneath his dark cloak. Aiden summoned his force shield and waded in with Sayana and Ronan joining in on the fight.
Unable to defend against so many, the assailants were cut down by a combination of sword and axe, leaving Aiden and the others standing over the fallen men, struggling to catch their breaths from the brief yet ferocious encounter.
“Pace,” Aiden breathed, turning to look at his friend who was leaning against the nearby wall with a hand on his stomach, a dark stain of blood leaking from between his fingers.
“I’ll take care of it,” Nellise said, rushing to his aid. Aiden blew out a heavy breath, and looked over at Criosa to make sure she was alright. The princess was leaning against the other wall, one hand held up before her with blood upon it. A moment, later, her knees gave way and she toppled over into the snow. Aiden hurried over and knelt by her side, summoning a magical light from the tip of his sword without even thinking about it and examining her wound.
“I don’t feel so good,” Criosa whispered. “I thought it was just a scratch…”
“It is just a scratch, you’re going to be fine,” Aiden assured her, expertly covering the fear he felt in the pit of his stomach. “Nel, when you’ve got a minute, you’d better take a look at this.”
“I’ve got my hands full at the moment, literally,” Nellise called back.
“Ronan, go and get that guard, we need help here,” Aiden instructed. Ronan nodded and ran around the corner, leaving Aiden to hold Criosa in his arms for a long moment.
“It was such a nice dress, too,” she said weakly. “Now I’ve gone and ruined it.”
“Don’t worry, it’s just an excuse to go and buy another one,” Aiden shrugged with a fake grin, trying to keep calm.
“He’s gone!” Ronan called as he came back around the corner. “The bastard ran off.”
“Maybe he went to get help?” Sayana offered.
“I hope so,” Aiden muttered. “Search through their gear and see if you can find something that might tell us who they were, and why they attacked.”
“On it,” Ronan replied, as Nellise rushed over to take a look at the fallen princess.
“This cut isn’t deep,” she reported after a cursory examination. “I think she’s been poisoned, though if it is, she only caught a bit of it.”
“How can you tell?” Aiden asked.
“Because she’s still alive,” Nellise informed him grimly. “I can help her, but we need to get her someplace warm. Pick her up, we’re taking her to the castle.”
Chapter Five
Criosa wasn’t a great burden to Aiden as they moved through the streets as quickly as his legs would carry them, though his heart did beat faster at the thought of her dying. This was the last member of the Roebec family and if she were to perish, the King’s line would come to an end. Aiden didn’t want to be remembered as the one who let it happen.
Sayana led the way, her axe poised to strike anyone who threatened to hinder their progress, though nobody they encountered seemed to be interested in questioning why a small girl carried such a large weapon.
The castle loomed over the city streets with guards stationed out front of the drawbridge, who allowed them to pass without incident and even expedited the opening of the main gates to aid their stricken princess. Nellise made quick mention that two more men would be following, for Aiden couldn’t stop to wait for Ronan and Pacian.
Aiden was breathing hard by the time they reached the first large chamber inside the castle, which appeared to be some sort of waiting room. Large couches were placed against all the walls and a huge fireplace burned brightly to keep the cold at bay. Expensive carpets covered the floors, their colours a stark contrast to the grey stone around them. Large portraits hung on the walls, though Aiden didn’t have time to look at them closely at this particular moment.
“Set her down over here,” Nellise ordered, pointing at the couch closest to the fireplace. He gently set his delicate cargo down and then stepped back, allowing the cleric to do her work. Instead of taking out her prayer crystal, she retrieved her medicine satchel and began grinding up various odd-smelling herbs.
Glancing around, Aiden saw various officials scurrying about, some bringing fresh water at Nellise’s request, while others fetched important people of rank to deal with this situation.
Ronan, half dragging, half carrying the wounded Pacian along with him, entered the chamber and after a brief examination of the room, set him down on a couch. Aiden went to his side, to make sure that his wounds hadn’t re-opened on the rush to get to safety. Fortunately, Nellise had done just enough to staunch the flow of blood, though Pacian’s pale features indicated he was still in a lot of pain.
“Remind me again why I follow you around?” Pacian croaked.
“For the money and the women,” Aiden drawled, drawing a half-grin from his old friend.
“Don’t forget the frequent crippling injuries,” he groaned.
“Just relax, she’ll get to you in a minute.”
“How’s Criosa?” Pacian asked. Aiden looked over at the young lady – lying as still as death - and didn’t know how to answer. At that moment, the large double-doors leading further into the castle opened wide and several people emerged, two of whom were clearly men of importance.
One was a thin man in his thirties, with a receding hairline and thick eyebrows and dressed in the simple white robe of a cleric. The other was tall and sharp-featured, wearing a tailored suit of fine fabric and a dark blue coat. Upon seeing the unmoving form of Criosa, both rushed to her side, the cleric kneeling down to assist Nellise in administering whatever antidote she had concocted.
“In God’s name, what happened?” the finely-dressed man asked no-one in particular. Upon closer inspection, he was an older gentleman, with neatly combed hair and a trimmed beard. Keen eyes looked down on the injured princess with almost fatherly concern.
“The princess was attacked in an alleyway,” Aiden explained, stepping forward to speak when no-one else did. “We fought them off, but she caught a little poison in the fight.”
“Please tell me you can cure it,” he stated, holding his breath.
“Whatever she was poisoned with, it was only a small dose,” Nellise replied, distracted by her task. “It must have been coated on their knives… although Pacian hasn’t shown signs of poisoning, and he was stabbed in the belly.”
“Poison on a blade is only
good for one hit,” Ronan mentioned. “If they got Criosa first, there might not be enough left on the blade to kill anyone else.” Nellise applied her poultice to the wound and Criosa recoiled in pain, but then lay back down on the couch, and to everyone’s surprise, yawned widely.
“I… didn’t expect that,” Nellise observed uncertainly, looking to her counterpart in the priestly robe for advice.
“Perhaps it is some sort of sleep-inducing poison?” he mused, eyes darting about in thought.
“Could be,” Ronan replied dubiously. “I’ve heard of such things over the years, but it’d be rare.”
“So her life isn’t in peril?” the official asked, wringing his hands.
“I don’t know for certain,” Nellise hedged, “but her pulse is strong, which can only be a good thing.”
“This makes sense, when you think about it,” Aiden explained as it all seemed to fall into place in his mind. “The people behind the attack on Culdeny wanted to capture her, not kill her. And on the ship, that wizard wanted to take her away, too. Why would they want to kill her after going to all that trouble?”
“And who might you be?” the official asked, turning his gaze to Aiden.
“He is Aiden Wainwright, the hero of the Battle of Culdeny,” Criosa whispered, sweat beading on her brow as she spoke.
“Your Highness, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice,” the official breathed, kneeling down by her side. Although Aiden was sure about his hypothesis, he hadn’t been completely certain, and he felt just as much relief as the others at her awakening.
“We only received word this morning that you had embarked upon a ship for Fairloch,” the official continued, “and have been expecting your arrival, though in far less dramatic fashion. What is her condition, madam?”
“This poultice should neutralise what remains of the poison, though she will need to rest in order to recover her strength,” Nellise informed him, standing up and brushing off her robe, clasping the halo-ringed sword of her faith with one hand.
“I concur with her assessment, Castellan,” the robed man agreed, speaking to the official. “I will, of course, see to her recovery personally. We should have her moved to her room to provide her with more familiar surroundings.”
“Do as you see fit, Prelate,” the castellan replied, gesturing to several servants standing by to assist the priest. When they reached down to try and pick up Criosa, however, she waved them away.
“I am capable of walking to my own room,” she informed everyone present, and slowly pulled herself upright, with only a little assistance from Nellise.
“You really shouldn’t be moving about, Your Highness,” the prelate remarked, as more of an observation than an order.
“Balderdash - if it isn’t going to kill me, it will only make me stronger,” Criosa said dismissively, her words slurred. Despite this bold claim, her body seemed to have other ideas, threatening to topple over without warning. “Although, it would be nice to have a little help,” she quietly added. Aiden was about to move forward to help her when two of the servants dashed in, offering their shoulders for her to lean on.
The castellan led them into the next chamber, with Aiden and his companions following along behind as they walked slowly down a short hall and into a large, open space that took his breath away.
Tapestries depicting great scenes from the country’s history lined the walls of what was the largest interior space he’d ever seen. Lavish carpets were laid over the flagstones, and elegant columns rose up to the high ceiling, lining a path leading directly to a raised dais upon which stood a throne wrought of steel and gold. Two blazing fireplaces brought the temperature to a comfortable level, and combined with the two dozen lanterns that hung from the columns, provided soft light.
Up ahead, an elderly gentleman with a neatly trimmed grey hair and accompanying beard was entering the chamber, accompanied by a middle-aged man wearing heavy armour in the livery of a knight of the realm. Two frustrated servants moved beside the older man, trying to help him finish donning his formal attire while he strode briskly towards the entryway, their footsteps echoing in the vast chamber.
“By God, is that you, Criosa?” he called as the two groups closed the distance between them.
“Uncle Charlie, I’m so glad to see you again,” the princess replied, struggling to keep her eyelids open. The elderly man rushed forward and embraced the blonde girl, a look of immeasurable relief on his weathered features.
“I’m starting to get the impression you two have met before,” Aiden drawled as the embrace showed no signs of stopping. Criosa finally let the old man go and almost staggered backwards, to be caught by the two servants.
“So it’s true - you’ve been poisoned,” he breathed.
“A mild dose of some sort of sleeping poison,” the prelate quickly answered. “I believe she will make a rapid recovery, although I must insist she be taken to her room immediately.”
“Yes, of course, go ahead,” the old man answered, waving the servants onward. “Get some rest my dear, we shall speak soon.”
“Alright, but these are my friends, and I trust them with my life, okay? Listen to them, especially Aiden, he’s really smart…” Criosa mumbled, allowing herself to be carried along with the castellan and the prelate in close pursuit. Once the door had closed behind them, the elderly man turned to address Aiden.
“There goes a brave young lady,” he stated fondly. “I cannot adequately express my gratitude for conveying Criosa here safely. I am Charles Montague, Duke of Fairloch, and this is my aide, Sir Godfrey Davis.” The armoured man bowed his head at the mention of his name.
He bore a thick, bristling grey moustache and his grey eyes sparkled keenly under his furrowed brow. A resplendent arming sword hung from one hip, and a heavy shield was strapped to his back.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Aiden said, keeping his tone respectful. He introduced his companions.
“It is both an honour and a pleasure to make your acquaintances, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” the duke continued. “I know you must be tired from your difficult journey, but I must hear how Criosa came to be wounded.”
“To put it plainly, there was another attempt to take her captive by shadowy assailants whose origin we still don’t know,” Aiden explained grimly. “This is the third direct assault upon her in a week, and I certainly hope it’s the last.”
“I heard news of her initial capture, and the battle of Culdeny,” the duke said, “but not of any further attempts since then.”
“We were attacked at sea, and then again, just a few minutes ago in the middle of the city.”
“Attacked in our own city?” the Duke bristled, glancing at Sir Godfrey in outrage. “Where did this take place?”
“In the market district, Your Grace,” Nellise answered after a quick look from Aiden. His knowledge of the city’s layout was still rather vague. “A section of the main road had been damaged due to some sort of experiment at the University, and we were forced to detour through some alleyways. That’s where the villains made their move.”
“Blast!” the duke cursed, his pale face turning red and splotchy with rage. “I knew we had such people living within our walls, but never before has there been an attempt on a member of the royal family. I had thought they would have been smarter than that, for now the entire weight of the Watch will be upon them.”
“Ronan, did you find anything of interest on their bodies?” Aiden asked curiously.
“Yeah, I found their instructions,” the sailor replied, fishing some small items out of one of his pockets. “There was this crumpled note with a suitably vague message on it. It reads - ‘The area is prepared. The mark has arrived and will be heading through shortly. Do not fail.’ It is signed ‘Number One’, which tells us exactly nothing.”
“Except…” Aiden began, a thought occurring to him, “the guard who diverted us to the alleyway had disappeared after the attack had be
gun. He might have been involved somehow.”
“How far does the reach of these people extend?” Nellise wondered aloud. “They must have corrupted the City Watch to achieve their ends. Is there anyone here we can even trust?”
“More than that,” Ronan added grimly, “is the prospect of the assassin’s guild resurfacing in Fairloch once more. The style of their attack made me think about how those bastards used to operate, and this sort of job is right up their alley. Excuse the pun.”
“The assassin’s guild was destroyed decades ago,” the duke informed them, his tone dark and foreboding. “I cannot imagine who would have brought them back to Fairloch. If they are involved then the royal family is in serious danger.”
“It’s also strange that they’d take the risk,” Aiden mused. “Am I correct in assuming they work for hire?”
“Of course,” Ronan shrugged.
“Then it appears that moneyed interests are behind the assault,” Sir Godfrey declared, speaking up for the first time. “This sudden resurgence could only come about if the money made it worthwhile, for they know what the result will be if the guild stays in the city for too long.”
“I’m curious if someone has contacted them directly, or if this is simply a matter of someone placing a bounty on Criosa’s life and spreading word through the right channels - or wrong, depending on which way you look at it,” Ronan remarked.
“It isn’t hard to understand their motives,” Duke Charles remarked. “With Criosa as the only heir to the throne, all it would take to throw the Kingdom into turmoil is to – heaven forbid – kill her, and even if they were to merely take her hostage, her captors would have free rein to set their terms. This is all wild speculation, ladies and gentlemen. We have theories and precious few facts. I need more information. If the City Watch has indeed been compromised, then I will need people I can trust to help with the investigation.”
In Defence of the Crown (The Aielund Saga Book 2) Page 8
